That One Scar
by Pozagee
Summary: We recieve scars. But giving them...it's far more painful. RusLiet. Characters are 3D and realistic.


_It hadn't been anything big. _

_Just a simple comment in passing. _

_But with Latvia's luck..._

_Naturally everything went south... _

_Fast..._

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Russia was bent over the large desk in his study, looking over his nation's reports.

They didn't look good.

It wasn't only the fact that his sisters had left him... No, things were getting worse in everything: The Economy, International Relations, medical suppliers, food suppliers, The Job Market...

His country was falling apart at the seams, and he could do nothing.

That was one disadvantage of being a nation. You had to do what '_the people_' wanted, while also doing what was best for them. Add that to constant (annoying) '_paperwork_', being subject to '_the Boss's_' whims, and trying to maintain a careful image... Ah, it wasn't easy.

Russia closed his eyes, rubbing them with the heels of his hands. Bog, was he tired! The state of everything was really wearing down on his health...

He shook his head of those unpleasant thoughts, instead trying to think of something to distract him from the impending collapse...

"Russia-san?"

Ah, Lithuania. A very wonderful—_DEFINITELY_ welcome—distraction.

"Privet, Lithuania. What brings you here?" Russia questioned, swiveling in the large leather chair to smile at his favorite Baltic.

The brunette shivered as violet eyes landed on him. "I-I figured y-you might want some t-tea..." Lithuania lifted up a tray, displaying a quaint little tea set—something obviously having belonged to his younger sister.

Russia grimaced—internally, of course—before gesturing for Lithuania to enter.

The study was none to big; it was actually rather small. There were tall bookshelves, containing both modern novels and old tombs. Portraits of past '_bosses_' decorate the dark walls, giving the room a kind of ghostly-feel. The windows were covered with thick velvet drapes, in a vain attempt to keep General Winter's wrath out...but the Soviet Union was always cold...

The desk at which Russia was currently sitting took up a lot of space in the room; it was very old, having come from when Mongolia was still in charge of the area. Intricate carvings wove over the dark wood, along with dents and such marks. It gave the piece a kind of...warm feel.

Now, however, the desktop was overflowing with files and other such documents: All lists of the things that were going wrong.

Lithuania held the tray as Russia quickly swept some papers aside. It may have been Lithuania's imagination...but was the man trembling?

It was nothing obvious; _DEFINITELY_ nothing compared to himself, Estonia, and Latvia...but it was there, no matter how minute.

He was growing weaker.

"You can set that down, Lithuania," Russia commented, seeing as Lithuania had yet to have moved from his position of studying the Russian's hesitant movements. Lithuania quickly obliged.

Russia served himself, since he had specific...tastes when it came to his tea. He liked to make it very sweet with sugar and a few drops of cream...before pouring a large splash of vodka. Lithuania had no idea how the larger man stood the taste: Even with the sweetness, the alcohol made the tea unbearably bitter and spicy.

A slight clatter jerked Lithuania out of his reverie, causing him to internally scold himself. You _NEVER_ let your guard down around Russia. Even if the man was weak right now...it didn't mean that the Russian was unable to physically punish him.

But the clatter had just been Russia's floral tea cup shaking against it's plate. Russia gave a half-hearted glare to the offending dish, before grasping for the cup again. His hand trembled horribly, causing the hot liquid to splash over the sides, staining Russia's tan sweater.

Lithuania looked away, pretending not to see the larger man's weakness. If he just played dumb for now, he could strike at just the right time. He and the other two Baltics would be able to finally escape the accursed house...

He nearly smiled at the thought, but he heard a small sniffling noise.

Green eyes whipped around to stare at Russia. The man...he had tears in his eyes!

"M-Mr. R-R-Russia-s-san? A-are you a-alright?" the brunette asked hesitantly.

Russia dipped his head slightly, beige hair and shadows shielding his frustrated facial expression. He couldn't even drink a cup of tea anymore, without fatigue overwhelming him.

"Da, I am fine, Mr. Lithuania. You should return to your duties," Russia finally answered, though the last part sounded like an order. Lithuania shuddered as he nodded, before darting out the heavy door.

Russia sighed—he seemed to be doing that a lot, as of late—before downing the tea in a gulp. The warm liquid with the vodka created a short-lived heaven for the ill man; the shaking ceased temporarily, and the the stiff muscles relaxed into the rich smelling leather chair. Bliss.

But it didn't last long. Russia rubbed his burning eyes with his large hands, before hunching over the crowded desk. Again.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

"He's getting weaker," Lithuania said quietly, as he stirred a thick red soup. It looked unappetizing, seemingly reminiscent of boiling an animal's innards in it's own blood...but the smell it radiated was wonderful! It curled around the three boys like a living blanket, pledging to protect them.

Estonia glanced at Lithuania, seeming skeptical. "Are you sure? He seems normal to me..."

_'Of course Russia would seem normal to Estonia, though,_' thought Lithuania, as he continued the rhythmic stirring.

Lithuania, you see, had a very complicated relationship with Russia. They had had their share of quarrels in the past, building up a rather intense rivalry between the two; who would conquer the other first.

Russia lost many a battle, but he won the war.

Lithuania came (was dragged) to live with the man, along with a large group of others, including Estonia and Latvia—the other two-thirds of the Baltics.

It had been fine, at first. Everyone was just so different, they hardly talked. Add that to the sudden changes in their Political systems, and the way of life for their people...well, they hardly had time for socializing anyhow.

Eventually, however, they grew to be like...something reminiscent of a family. Ukraine was the goofball and drama queen, who was as nurturing as a mother. Belarus was the scary, overprotective sister, who also happened to be a good prankster. Latvia was the baby of the family, who often needed to be cuddled to go to sleep. Estonia was the smartest of the bunch, with a dry humor that was often much-appreciated. Lithuania was the glue of the group; the mediator...and Russia, despite not being the oldest, took care of them all.

He was their umbrella on a rainy day.

Then...things changed.

Russia's bosses got harsher, ideals changed, people revolted, people died...

Russia had shielded them from it, too. All of it.

...The man's mind had already been fractured, due to everything else in his past: General Winter, Mongolia's rule, the murders, the famines, the corruptness... But this...seeing all of 'his children' dying...it truly pushed him off the deep end.

That's when Russia started hurting them...or rather, Lithuania.

Looking back on it, Lithuania wonders if Russia even knew what he was doing. The man would always smile while beating him...but he'd cry at the same time. Lithuania had been in so much pain, and was too confused about the conflicting emotions swirling in him to even question such things.

Russia had been through so much pain...things that nations—even as old as China—would not be able to imagine. Russia had been tortured, stretched, torn, practically killed so many times; it was a wonder the man wasn't more messed up!

To sum things up, Lithuania couldn't hate Russia. He actually...sort of liked him, if that was possible...

"I can just tell," Lithuania finally replied to Estonia's question. The bespectacled boy shrugged, turning back to the teapot.

"D-does that m-me-mean we'll b-be a-able to e-escape?" Latvia questioned. Despite the fact that Latvia never got injured, he was the most nervous of the Trio; even when the Russian wasn't around.

Estonia glared at their youngest '_sibling_'. "Don't talk of such things in this house. The walls have ears."

That made Latvia whip his head around, as though looking for mangled ears nailed to the wallpaper. Estonia smirked slightly, highly amused.

Lithuania sighed helplessly, shooting a weak glare at Estonia. "Est..." He shook his head. "Latvia, it's only a figure of speech."

Latvia seemed to relax, and went back to rolling out the heavy dough (that was to be used to make bread).

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Russia stood from his desk a couple hours later, feeling as though he could easily collapse: The exhaustion was nearly overwhelming.

When he went to the bathroom to relieve himself, he caught a glimpse in the mirror. His hair seemed dull, as did his eyes. His skin was pale; lifeless looking. Add that to the worry lines and weight-decrease...he resembled a reanimated corpse.

Shaking his head of those disturbing thoughts, he tried to make his way downstairs to eat...

But he stumbled, barely able to keep his balance. His muscles were too stiff from sitting all day, and his fever-aches weren't helping either.

He hesitated—only slightly—before grasping the pipe that had came from Germany's house. He leaned on the thick metal faucet, using it like one would a cane, nearly blushing.

_'So this is what I've been reduced to_?' He shook as he stumbled down the stairs, but regained his composure before entering the eating hall—and stowing away the pipe.

The last thing he needed right now was for the Baltics to get scared/nervous and attack—much like a cornered animal would. No; he wanted them to remain here, at least for as long as possible. If that meant making some sacrifices, then so be it.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

When Russia arrived in the dining room, it was very apparent that Lithuania had been right: Russia was very ill.

When the tall man finally slouched into his chair, he breathed deeply; it seemed as though even making his way downstairs was a great task to overcome.

"M-Mr. Russia? Are y-you quite a-alright?" Estonia questioned hesitantly, much like his older '_brother_' had earlier.

Russia nodded his head, beige hair covering his sweaty brow. His face had a slight flush on it, an obvious sign of fever.

Estonia cast a glance at Lithuania, who actually looked concerned for the large man. Their older '_brother_' was too much of a bleeding-heart sometimes.

But a similar glance at Latvia showed he was concerned as well.

'_Bleah, whatever_,' Estonia internally scoffed, but he couldn't help the gnawing sensation in his stomach while looking at Russia. He truly looked horrible...

"Shall we eat?" Russia questioned finally, after the awkward silence had drug on for far-too-long. The Baltics nodded, and served themselves, taking in the wonderful scent of Borscht, rye bread, and Estonia's special brew.

Russia had just received the pot of stew, when a loud ringing cut through the air. Growling in irritation, he limped over to the shiny black phone, yanking it off the receiver.

"Privet!" he growled, his voice sounding bitter. After the person on the other-end of the line said a few words, however, his face fell back to tired lines and hopelessness. "Da, da. I've been working all day...Da, I know, but..." he heaved a heavy sigh. "Right now is not a good time...I-I know but...Da...Alright, I will be down there soon. Do svidaniya." Chink.

There was a long pause, before Russia walked heavily back into the room. He was so exhausted.

"R-Russia-san?" Lithuania questioned, watching as the man jerkily pulled on his tan over-coat.

"That was my Boss. I am needed," he replied simply.

Lithuania wondered why the man didn't put on something more appropriate, like one of his nice pressed suits. Right now, Russia was wearing loose house-pants, a stained and worn sweater, and his ridiculous scarf. Now granted that the clothes would easily be concealed in the long coat, the scarf would still be on display.

The poor abused thing; it was worn so-very thin, and it had quite a few holes and stains. But...

'_Oh no_...' Lithuania thought in horror.

When Russia had spilt his tea earlier, quite a bit had actually landed on the light-colored cloth.

And it wasn't like the other small stains that decorate the scarf—oh no, it was a large, dark, obvious stain. Impossible to remove.

Lithuania felt like he should say something...the last thing anyone needed was for Russia's boss to bully him right now...but what could he say (and how could he say it) that wouldn't sound like he was making fun of the Russian.

Estonia had similar thoughts, but he didn't get a chance to voice his opinions either...

Latvia had decided to speak up instead.

"You're honestly going like that?" Latvia questioned, his tone merely curious. Russia stiffened, though, apparently finding something condescending in the smallest one's words.

"Da...I am," Russia replied, though he didn't turn to face Latvia yet.

"But your clothes are house-wear, not formal business attire! And you don't expect to wear that coat the whole meeting, right?"

It sounded almost comical to hear Latvia talk about different types of clothes. Russia gave a slight smile, the chilling air leaving him. The boy was just being his normal goofy self—Russia couldn't bring himself to reprimand/punish him.

He shuffled to the door, about to leave, when Latvia said it.

"And then there's that scarf!"

Russia froze, hand curled around the doorknob. He felt as though ice had found it's way into his veins; nobody ever mentioned his scarf. It was an unwritten rule that all the nations abided by.

"W-what about my scarf?" Russia stuttered, still trying to overcome the shock.

Latvia answered him, but his mind was too numb to make out what he was saying.

Russia rubbed a gloved hand over the soft material, thinking about how he recieved it...and what he had been through in it.

So much pain, so much suffering...so much happiness as well, though. Ever since that day Ukraine gave him the scarf...it had never left his neck, except for once...but he'd rather not remember that occurance.

It was stained, torn, pretty thin...it was imperfect and perfect because of that. It showed what he had been through...

How-how _DARE_ Latvia mock his scarf?! **_HOW DARE HE_**?!

Russia grabbed the pipe that had been stored underneath his coat, and was standing over Latvia in a second, all traces of weakness gone.

It happened so fast. It was as though he wasn't in control of himself; it was quite possible he wasn't.

But it was him that did it. He raised the faucet. He swung it down. He hit Latvia-

_'Oh Bog_.'

The metal piece nearly slipped out of Russia's grasp, as he stared at Latvia, horror in his eyes.

Latvia was screaming.

Lithuania and Estonia were over him in an instant, taking stock of the damage.

The pipe had struck his shoulder, knocking it out of place in an instant, and a rough edge had caught the boy's skin, causing a bleeding wound.

Russia felt numb, as Estonia and Lithuania shouted at Latvia to "_calm down_!" and to "_stop moving_!"

Russia felt his legs shudder, illness creeping into him again. He leaned heavily against the entryway wall, eyes nearly unfocused.

When had he became this monster?

Suddenly, Lithuania was right in front of him. Estonia was carrying a still sobbing Latvia off to somewhere, but Lithuania was still there.

The brunette didn't say anything, but his eyes were cold, careless. It was a scary expression; one of which Russia had never seen before, at least on on his Lithuania.

Lithuania **_HATED_** him.

Russia suddenly felt more vulnerable and weak than ever before. He grasped the end of his makeshift cane, before his eyes glazed over again. It was sticky.

Russia felt tears burning in his eyes.

He was a monster.

He was a creep.

He was something that deserved to be locked away, and forgotten.

He...always knew those things about himself. But...it really hurt, knowing his Lithuania now knew.

But Russia didn't break down. He didn't thrust the pipe away. He smiled his normal childishly cruel smile, the perfect amount of terror and insanity thrown in as well.

"Well, Litva. It appears my secret is out, da?" Russia laughed humorlessly.

Lithuania stared at the man in front of him. No longer was he the vulnerable child, the beaten child, the scared child. He was a harsh, horrible man.

And Lithuania hated him.

He wanted to _**HURT**_ him.

"It was never a secret, Russia," Lithuania said stonily, and walked after his '_brothers_'.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Russia entered his bedroom silently, closing the door with a barely audible "_click_".

You'd think it would be some large, grandiose room, seeing as it's owner was very powerful...but it wasn't. It was much like the Study.

Where expensive furniture and high-class decorations should be, stood a rather small and bare room.

There was a desk (certainly not the same quality of the one in his study), a small bookshelf, and a single four-poster bed (the only remotely expensive-looking item in the room). The sheets on the bed were fleece, light blue in color. The rest of the room was also done in blues with splashes of gold.

All and all, the room was small, but very beautiful, warm, and comfortable. Russia, frankly, preferred those things rather than a stiff, overly-bright, overly-large room. Things like that—they were cold.

And did Russia hate the cold.

And right now—despite the fact that his room was normally his saving grace—it was so very cold.

Russia shuddered, not only from the cold.

His legs felt like gelatin, and is insides felt as though they had been torn apart, then roughly pieced back together.

Bile rose in his throat, causing him to gag, but he stumbled forward, sprawling on his bed.

He felt...so ill. And in pain.

He just wanted it all to end.

Russia's eyes widened at that thought, before he shook his head. He could not allow himself to think like that; the insane part of himself may just take over to fulfill that wish.

But sometimes...sometines he wished that that side would take over, and end him. He wouldn't have to feel or cause anyone pain anymore. The Baltic Trio would go to their respective homes, the other Nations would be free of him, and he...well, he would forever be in a field of sunflowers.

He had felt his sanity slip away, slowly but surely, throughout the years. Too much pain, too much blood-shed could do that.

But he didn't want to hurt anyone, honestly! He...he just wanted to be big and strong. Nobody would hurt him or the people he loved that way. And he had been taught no other way to get big, other than violence.

Then there was the fact that he was also never taught how to show love.

Yeah. And then there's that.

There was a small group of people—or rather Nations—he would do almost anything for: Belarus, Ukraine, China, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. But he couldn't just...come out and say he loved them! Or even really show physical affection.

Russia pressed his eyes again, hating the achy-burny feeling that accompanied tears.

He wanted to grow up strong, yes. And he did...

But look at him now.

Russia adjusted himself more properly on the bed, burrowing into the blankets. The pipe lay neat him, blood staining the sheets, but he could care less.

The phone in his room started ringing—his impatient, slave-driver of a boss, no doubt—but he let it ring. In this condition, he'd be lucky to even sit up, any longer.

Ever since he had...hit...Latvia, he had felt himself growing increasingly weaker.

They were going to leave him.

Russia closed his dead eyes, a couple tears escaping. The fact was, he couldn't blame them.

'_I am truly a horrible monster...aren't I._'

It was no question.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Lithuania strode into the kitchen, where Latvia was sitting on a chair. His eyes were puffy and red, but the rest of his face was incredibly pale.

Estonia already had the first aid kit on the counter, and was checking to see what would help their '_brother_'. Latvia's shirt lay discarded on the floor, so the young one's injuries were on display.

It was sickening, to say the least.

Latvia's shoulder was molted with a large, multicolored bruise; it was obviously out-of-joint, if not broken. The part where the pipe had broken the sick was still seeping dark red blood, adding to the already gruesome damage.

Estonia and Lithuania worked in silence, quickly patching up their friend. Latvia just sat and whimpered, until the pain medications were distributed, along with a bright red lollipop.

"We're going now," Estonia said in a commanding voice, as though he expected Lithuania to argue.

Lithuania remained silent, instead opting to nod. They each went and packed their belongings, and helped Latvia with his own. Once done, they were in the kitchen again, waiting on Latvia to finish up in the bathroom.

Lithuania looked scary. His hair was wild, his eyes crazed, and his muscles tense. The brunette kept feeling his eyes draw over to the set of beautiful kitchen knives.

Estonia noticed the boy's gaze, and whispered, "Lithuania..." in warning.

Latvia came out of the bathroom, and Lithuania made his decision.

"You two go on ahead. I forgot something upstairs," Lithuania easily lied, but only for the sake of Latvia.

Estonia's face was emotionless, but his voice was worried. "Don't do anything you will later regret, Lit."

Lithuania pursed his lips, watching Latvia as the boy eagerly hobbled away from the house.

"I won't regret this."

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

The door of Russia's bedroom swung open, letting in the light from the hallway. The room itself was dark, the only light coming from the setting sun.

_'The room is pretty_,' Lithuania observed, wondering at how such a large, mean man such as Russia could enjoy such things.

'_Speaking of the devil._..'

Russia was sprawled out on his bed, soft blankets tangled around his legs. The man looked pale, paler than earlier, and everything just looked dull about him.

The sun cast warm golden light across the cold man, giving a kind of Ethereal glow. His face seemed so relaxed, despite the droplets if sweat shining on his brow. Russia just looked...perfect.

Lithuania sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Russia. He truly was beautiful, in a angelic way. It was unfortunate that his personality was so demented.

With his face a mask of calmness, Lithuania held the large blade up, making the intricately decorated handle sparkle in the sun.

Lithuania's hand traveled to Russia's scarf to loosen it, but it was already limp around his neck-

**_Dieve_**.

There was that scar; the deep jagged one that only Lithuania knew about.

He HAD been the one to carve it.

Lithuania knew Russia's body was covered in scars—maybe even more so than himself. But still...that one scar always caused guilt to well up in the pit of his stomach.

It was stupid, really. Russia had hurt him before; many times, in fact. But...this was different. Russia had been so weak...and Lithuania had just carelessly flicked his blade at the blond-

That was the first and last time Lithuania had seen the man without his scarf.

Lithuania didn't want to do this, but he did—if that made any sense. Russia deserved some form of punishment, true, but not something unending like torture; he had already gone through that enough in his lifetime.

Lithuania wanted to hurt Russia. He wanted to see him bleed and beg for mercy...

But he also wanted to hold Russia. He wanted to dab his feverish brow and chase away his nightmares...

As stated earlier, the relationship between Russia and Lithuania was a complicated one.

Lithuania placed the blade against Russia's neck.

It would be quick, simple, and perfect. Russia would be free of his pain, and nobody would ever have to deal with the man again. A win-win situation, truly.

It would be easy.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Then Russia's violet eyes opened slowly, still glassy from his short nap. For a second, he wondered what woke him up...but then he saw.

Lithuania was sitting on the edge of his bed, face vacant, yet determined.

Russia then felt the sharp, cool metal resting against his throat.

If Russia would have been feeling better, he would have made a remark, such as, "_Why hello there, Lithuania. Here to try and slit my throat? Again?_"

But Russia was ill, tired, and done. Just **_done_**.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

It would have been easy.

It should have been easy.

But it wasn't.

You'd think that with Russia's eyes looking up at him, it would be harder—but no—that would have been easier, actually.

Easier than this.

Russia's eyes slid closed, a small—_RELIEVED_—smile gracing his lips.

He-he was just giving up!

Lithuania stared at the larger man's childish face, hating him and himself.

Why? Why did everything have to be like this? So-so HARD?! Why couldn't he just kill Russia? Everyone—even RUSSIA—would be happy!

...wouldn't they?

As Lithuania held the blade against Russia's neck—the neck that was always covered to suppress horrible memories for both of them—he realized one person that wouldn't be happy at Russia's death.

Himself.

The garish blade shook, as Lithuania bit his lip. A couple tears slowly—agonizingly—slid down his cheeks.

"I-I want to h-hate you," Lithuania whispered. Russia's eyes opened, and they had silvery tears in them, along with a question: 'Why haven't you killed me yet?'

"B-but I c-can't; h-hate you, I m-mean."

Russia just looked at him; waiting.

"I can't kill you either."

Russia's eyes closed.

And Lithuania left, without another word.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Latvia was walking with a slight skip in his step, despite his injuries. Estonia walked slower, though, shooting looks over his shoulder, waiting for Lithuania.

'_Could he have actually done it? Can a Nation even be killed?_' But, then, there was Roman Empire, Holy Roman Empire, and Germania; they were gone, because they had gotten too big.

Much like Russia.

Too many Nations rebelled and proclaimed independence at the same time; they were weak.

Much like Russia.

Could Russia become like them? The Nations that got too big? A mere memory?

Despite his dislike for the Russian, Estonia didn't like that thought.

And how would Lithuania handle everything, if he killed the Nation? Lithuania was a gentle soul—a Pacific spirit. He couldn't harm a fly!

Right?

Estonia thought of all the wars Lithuania had waged. The brunette used to be strong and powerful—nearly ruthless. Had that part awoken in him again?

Estonia shook his head of these questions, when he saw Lithuania jog up to them. He would get his answers, thats for sure.

"Well?" Estonia asked, never one for preamble.

Lithuania looked pale, except for around his eyes—that area was tinted a light rose color. He looked drained; be it physically or mentally.

"I couldn't do it."

Estonia sighed, happy for two reasons—at least. One: Lithuania was still _LITHUANIA_; he had retained his peaceful nature. Two: Lithuania wouldn't have to live with the fact that he had killed another Nation.

He truly did care about his '_brother_', Lithuania.

"That-that's good," Estonia finally replied.

Lithuania nodded, looking old. "He's just so..."

Latvia had slowed down, and was casting confused glances at his '_brothers_', unsure about what they were talking about. But he DID know WHO.

"Broken?" he offered. The other two Baltics looked at him. Latvia blushed, shrugging. "H-he's just like a little kid, s-sometimes."

They walked in silence down the long country road. The cool September breeze caused the tall wheat to rustle, and stirred up a crisp smell that could only be described as "_Fall_".

Eventually, they came to the three-way fork in the road, each way leading to their respective homes.

Each man paused briefly, flashing small—but tired—smiles at each other.

"Well, I guess this is it," Lithuania said quietly. He was relieved to be going home, but...some small part of him would miss being part of the USSR—if only for his '_brothers_'. He didn't want to think about R-him right now.

"Hey! You guys need to visit me!" Latvia warned, though he was practically glowing—and was certainly bouncing—with anticipation of his journey home.

"Don't worry, Lat. We will visit soon enough," Estonia agreed. Latvia nodded and bounced along the path leading to his newly-independent land.

Lithuania made to go back to his beautiful fields, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "Estonia?"

The blond had no emotion on his face, and his lips were pressed together tightly. "If you ever need to talk..."

Lithuania nodded, smiling gratefully; he clapped Estonia's arm fondly.

Estonia nodded stiffly, before starting down his road. "I will be seeing you."

Lithuania smiled until Latvia and Estonia disappeared; then it faded.

He felt so...cold...suddenly. So alone. _'Is this what Russia will feel, now? Now that he's alone with no one in his great house?'_

Russia wondered what would become of his previous captor: '_Would this blow be too much for him to handle? Will be grow sicker? Will his economy collapse totally? Will he die...? Will he kill himself...?_'

Lithuania looked back down the road; back to hell.

He couldn't return, no matter how much he felt the need to.

Russia...he had to do this on his own, for many reasons...and if he should need assistance, Lithuania could NOT be the one to give it.

He hoped time would heal Russia's wounds.

This time.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Many years had passed, since the September the Baltic States left the USSR. So much had happened...

The Baltic states made alliances with many Nations, including America...who was now the only Super Power left.

The USSR had officially collapsed, bringing about horrible problems for the broken country. Smaller countries spawned, civil wars waged, famines spread, so many deaths...

Few offered assistance, but Russia was prideful: He turned down every attempt at friendship, instead opting to live in isolation.

Rumors spread about Russia's condition; most were true, though they didn't know that. Many called him, asking if he was _'OK_' or if he '_needed any help_'.

He always said he was '_fine_'. Nothing more.

But despite the chaos that was happening in the former USSR, the world continued to turn.

Friendships between countries formed and were broken, wars happened, oil shortages, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It was normal for the Nations.

Eventually, Russia gradually started writing—not calling—other Nations. He was trying to come back into the land of the living.

Russia set up tentative friendships with European countries, and some Asian ones as well. Relationships with America were strained, but they could coexist fine.

Finally, Russia allowed other Nations to visit him.

Most were disgusted—or rather saddened—by the poor living conditions of both Russia and his people.

Russia lived in the same large house...but it was dilapidated, and oh-so cold. The once grand furniture and decorations were crumbling with age, and the whole place just seemed...sick.

The Nation himself was very thin and tired looking (when America visited him for the first time, the obnoxious boy had shouted, "ghost!" and ran out of the house), and had many more scars than before.

The people lived day-to-day, with hardly enough food to survive. Russian winters were hard as well, and shelter was often scarce.

But after so much nagging and worrying...Russia finally relented: He would let them assist him.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

Nowadays, Russia was much better: Country-wise and Nation-representative...wise.

A nice democracy, a stable economy, good foreign relations... Life was much better.

Russia still had scars, though he was obviously healthier: His skin was no longer grey, his hair looked shiny again, and he—frankly—looked more alive.

It was almost unbelievable to see how far he had come in a little over twenty years.

For the first time since the Baltics left—and the subsequent colapse of the USSR two months later—Russia was attending a World Conference meeting.

None wondered why he took so long; it was well-known how ill he had been, and how his pride wouldn't allow the others to see his weakness.

...but many were nervous.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

The air of the meeting room was tense as Russia entered. Every eye was on him.

The man smiled a small, gentle smile, however, and didn't say a word; he merely walked over to an empty chair at the end of the large table, and sat down.

There was a brief—though VERY awkward silence—before a bit of normality returned:

Turkey came in and sat down in a chair beside Japan...however, there was heard a small squeak. Turkey jumped, whirling around, before saying in his loud voice, "Oh, hey there Canadi'!"

Canada sighed, looking as though he was in some sort of internal conflict, before standing and moving to a different seat. The polar bear in his arms asked him something, which the boy responded with a sad, "I'm Canadia."

By the time that Sealand was found hiding behind the bins, the meeting was back in action.

America was talking some nonsense about giant superheroes, to which England responded with a: "You bloody git! Think real life, here!"

America shoved a hamburger into his mouth, before saying, "Ueah. Suys da guy dat hus umaginary f'ends."

France soon picked a fight with England, in which the words, "_Frog-face_," "_Pervert_," and "_Unromantic fool_," were prominent.

North Italy was trying to show a drawing to Germany (who was getting redder and redder in the face). Germany completely brushed him off, causing him to cry, causing Romano to shout, "_Potato loving bastard!_", causing Spain to reprimand him.

Lietchenstein was at Switzerland's side, per her usual. Austria, Hungary, Prussia, and Switzerland were also going at it. Poland seemed as though he was wandering throughout the room, randomly jumping in conversations.

The Nordics just stood there awkwardly, until being reigned into a debate about something-or-another.

Turkey and a high-looking Greece were also arguing (undoubtedly over Japan).

Latvia and Estonia were talking to China, but Lithuania was more focused on Russia. The large nation was sitting perfectly still, looking at everyone.

He was still smiling, though it was a sad smile.

He _HAD_ missed this-this normality of the chaos. He had been isolated for so many years, working on restoring his country. There were times when Russia felt himself litterally falling apart at the seams.

He could feel their pain, taste their wants, and harbor their sadness. He felt so sad sometimes... He drank then. Sometimes he harmed himself. There were many reasons he did it, though. His country, of course, was a major cause. However...his actions towards Latvia and the Baltics leaving—not to mention Lithuania's near-murder episode—were also huge causes.

He hadn't talked to the Baltics, nor his sisters; he wasn't sure he wanted to.

But then Lithuania approached him.

A few Nations paused in their usual activities to warily watch his voyage across the room, before resuming; they didn't want to draw attention to the rather personal interaction that was no-doubt about to take place.

"Hey there, Russia-san," Lithuania said quietly, sitting down beside the larger nation—though, somehow, he seemed...smaller. Perhaps it was everything that had happened...or maybe the lack of the '_Insane and Power Hungry_' vibes made him less intimidating.

Russia looked up a minute later, looking as though he couldn't believe who was sitting beside him. Lithuania blushed, ducking his head at Russia's unbelievably happy facial expression.

"L...Lithuania..." The word was light and breathy, like a cloud. It made Lithuania blush more.

"I-I've missed you so much..." Russia said in a gentle, very quiet voice. It finally, really hit Lithuania how much the man had changed.

He lifted his head to look at the Russian. "Honestly...I've missed you too."

That little sentiment caused Russia's eyes to water slightly...but he blinked, reigning in his emotions.

"Lit...you wouldn't believe how sorry I am...for everything. I've written so many letters, but none were good, and I tried to write to Estonia and Latvia, but that was just as hard, and I have just felt so guilty-"

"Russia-san," Lithuania stated firmly, stopping the man's ramblings—a few nearby Nations had started to stare. He shot them a warning look, before letting his forest-green eyes meet lavender.

"Appology accepted."

Russia blinked, disbelief prominent on his features. "Just like that?"

Lithuania nodded. "Just like that."

"..."

"I am...I am really sorry as well," Lithuania admitted, bowing his head.

Russia flinched—that was the only word to describe the jerk he gave at those words. "Lithuania, you do not need-"

"Ne, hear me out." Russia nodded, but looked uncomfortable. Lithuania wondered at how much he changed... So quiet and shy, he was now. He had been so hurt...

"I am sorry for what I almost did...and what I have done..."

Russia's large hand came up to his neck, gently tugging the scarf upwards—but Lithuania stopped him.

"You don't have to hide, draugas," Lithuania said gently, watching as tears formed in violet eyes. He himself felt a familiar ache in his eyes, as well.

"I don't like to see them...the..." _Scars_, he meant.

Lithuania looked around the meeting room. Every one was involved in some type of debate—no one was paying attention. It was as if they were in their own little bubble; their own little world, that was safe and warm.

"We all have them. We have all received some...and given some as well." The last part was painful to say. Receiving scars and injuries...it was honorable. You wore them like badges, _ESPECIALLY_ if you were a Nation...

But it hurt to give them—far more worse than to get them, thats for sure...

China's scar on his chest from Japan.

Cuba's scar on his temple from America.

Japan's scar on his ankle from America.

The Baltics' scars on their backs from Russia.

Russia's scars on his hands from Mongolia.

England and France's many scars from each other.

America's from himself.

Italy's from Germany.

America's from Japan.

England and America's from each other.

Russia and Canada's from General Winter.

Austria's from Prussia and vise versa.

...

**_Russia's scar on his neck from Lithuania_**.

The most painful.

It hurt both of them to remember that time...

...because...

"We hurt people we love sometimes," Lithuania whispered. "We don't know why. It doesn't help anything; it just makes things worse."

"And it hurts us in the process," Russia concluded, bowing his head, trying to hide behind his bangs.

There was such a long pause then, that both sides wondered if the conversation was over...

But then Lithuania quietly said:

"Hurting you was the most painful thing I've ever done."

Russia looked up at him. His face wasn't shocked, though—it was understanding.

"Da, I know the feeling."

Green eyes stared into violet.

"I love you."

There it was. The phrase neither thought they'd ever be capable of saying, let alone to each other.

No one said it first; it was as though the cosmos had been waiting for that moment—that moment of total realization that the two of them finally, really recognized their love for each other.

They had such a long way to go.

There was so much healing that still needed to be done.

They were so different...

But it would work.

Because love doesn't stop working.

O._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.O

**_A/N Well, this was a big-ass one-shot. Nearly 7,000 bloody words! Took me forever to write. _**

**_And my first romance, though it wasn't really that romance-y. Mostly angst and the like. Per my usual. But just in time for Valentines day! XD_**

**_All right, history. The Baltic states broke apart from Russia in September of 1991. The Soviet Union actually collapsed, however, that December. _**

**_Russia went through some pretty bad times then, but they did eventually rise up again, as a much nicer nation. _**

**_China's scar on his chest from Japan: When Japan left China. A very sad strip, I might add. _**

**_Cuba's scar on his temple from America: Cuban Missile crisis. The main reason Cuba hates America. _**

**_Japan's scar on his ankle from America: Hiroshima. _**

**_The Baltics' scars on their backs from Russia: The many wars and rebellions that took place throughout their time as part of the USSR. _**

**_Russia's scars on his hands from Mongolia: From the Mongols' rule over Russia. As seen in Tartar Yoke, Russia sports some rather nasty scars on his hands. _**

**_England and France's many scars from each other: From the many wars against each other. _**

**_America's from himself: American Civil war. Basically self destruction. _**

**_Italy's from Germany: From how harsh the Germans were to Italian 'soldiers' during WW2. _**

**_America's from Japan: Pearl Harbor. _**

**_England and America's from each other: Revolutionary War. Another sad strip. _**

**_Russia and Canada's from General Winter: From the abuse they suffer from the cold each year. Canada's aren't as well known, since his land is a bit more protected than Russia's flat barren lands. _**

**_Austria's from Prussia and vise versa: From Vital region seizing. Lol. _**

**_Russia's neck scar from Lithuania: The Lithuanian-Soviet War (1918-1919). This was just begging for a bit of angst. _**

**_Translations:_**

**_Bog (Russian): God_**

**_Da (Russian): Yes_**

**_Privet (Russian): Hello_**

**_Do Svidaniya (Russian): Goodbye_**

**_Dieve (Lithuanian): God_**

**_Draugas (Lithuanian): Friend_**

**_And side note: Borscht is a Russian soup made from beets. Sounds good, looks scary. _**

**_The story itself was inspired by a piece on DeviantART called "Hetalia: Lithuania and Russia" by Yue-Iceseal. It is bloody amazing, let me tell you. _**

**_Have I rambled enough? Gave you about a whole year's worth of history in one fanfic. Aren't I awesome?! XD_**

**_Anyway, review please!_**


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